


Love's got a Hold on Me

by Cutebutpsycho



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 08:24:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16971138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutebutpsycho/pseuds/Cutebutpsycho
Summary: Linguini sent me a message:Okay, but like Lestrade, exhausted from a long case, comes to see Sherlock, who's off galavanting somewhere, and Mrs. Hudson invites him in for tea. Or! Mrs. Hudson, after a night out with her friends, ends up arrested after a small misunderstanding, and Lestrade sorts it out and everything starts from there!And I went nuts.





	Love's got a Hold on Me

“Christ, he’s not in?” Lestrade tried desperately not to lean up against the doorway of 221b, but he was exhausted. The division had been up and buzzing for 48 hours and he hadn’t been able to sleep more than a quick catnap here and there. Finally, at his wits’ end, he agreed to get Sherlock.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head, “No,” she piped up. “Just ran off saying needed to talk to John and that was it. Didn’t tell me anything.” She studied him. “I take it he’s not answering his texts?”

Lestrade shook his head.

She opened the door further, “Why don’t you come in for a cuppa?” she asked. “You looked absolutely knackered. Besides, he might be back soon.”

It was a momentary refuge, Lestrade thought to himself. Just enough time to get his bearings before another press conference, which wore him out just thinking about.

Twenty minutes later, with a hot cup of tea in his hands and a few biscuits, Lestrade felt worlds better than before. Mrs. Hudson – no, Martha, as she insisted – was offering a sympathetic ear to his work woes.

“It’s always difficult with that line of work,” she said. “Odd hours, that sort of thing.”

“What did my marriage in,” he mused. 

“Well, how’s the dating?”

He snorted into his cup. “If you’re going to ask me that, you’re going to have to put some whiskey in this tea.”

Twenty more minutes later and a a nip of whiskey later, Lestrade was ranting about dating. “It’s just so strange now,” he said. “You start out with the text conversations and then they dribble out or fade away. Or they’re just looking for one thing, which was nice, but really, I feel like a tool for some people.”

She nodded. “You just sound like you’re lonely.”

“Aren’t we all?”

She turned her head away, trying to hide a blush. “Well, maybe not lonely in the way that others think,” she mused, pouring a bit more whiskey into her cup and adding a splash of tea and doing the same with his.

Lestrade glanced over at her. For an older woman, she was rather fit and she always had a sweet sense of humor. Admittedly he hadn’t thought of it before, but well, he never thought of her as  _lonely_. He always saw her as Sherlock’s pseudo-mother, so this was odd. He forgot she was human, and like other humans, had needs.

“Well,” he mused. “I suppose if I’m here, it could be remedied.”

She looked at him with  a slight smile. “I don’t take acts of charity.”

“I wasn’t saying it was charity,” he offered a feral grin. “What we if started with dinner first?”

~*~

In Cardiff, Sherlock fell over with a splitting headache.

“Sherlock,” John rushed to his side. “You all right?”

“I just had a feeling,” Sherlock gasped, “That there were two voices – and –” he paled. “I did not see that coming at all.”


End file.
